I would not return to my mother’s den, for it smelled of my dead littermates and meant only loneliness. But I did smell milk and warm bodies, and heard the unmistakable sounds of suckling. Hunger pierced the numbness that kept me huddled in the dirt. A part of me wondered how I could think about food when my mother was gone forever, but I couldn’t see the point of standing up against Ruuqo only to die of hunger mere wolflengths from Rissa’s warm milk. I didn’t know if she would feed me, but I was her sister’s pup and shared her blood. I had to try. I hadn’t forgotten Borlla’s and Unnan’s threats, but the pull of hunger was stronger than my fear. I turned my back on the bodies of my littermates and crept toward the good smells and sounds coming from Rissa’s den. I stopped when I saw the raggedy pup hunched miserably at the edge of the den.
“You’ll starve if you just stay out here.” He looked up at me when I spoke, but didn’t answer. He had a cut over his right eye where Borlla had swatted him, and his matted dark gray coat made him look even smaller than he was. But he had bright, silvery eyes. It was those unusual eyes, so like Triell’s, that stopped me and kept me from ignoring him on my way to my meal.
“Littlewolf,” I said, using the endearment our mother used for us, “if you let them bully you, you’ll always be a curl-tail.” Most packs have a curl-tail, a wolf who is picked on, one who doesn’t get as much to eat and is kept at the fringes of the pack. But I didn’t think the smallpup would even live to be a curl-tail if he didn’t get some food and the safety of the den soon.
He wrapped his scraggly tail around his legs and looked back down at the equally scraggly grass growing in the dirt. His scowl hid his brilliant eyes. “That’s easy for you to say, with the Greatwolves on your side. They all want me to die. That’s why they didn’t give me a name.”
Impatient, I turned from him. I didn’t have time for a pup who didn’t even want to live. My brother, Triell, would’ve given anything to have this chance at life. He wouldn’t have whined and trembled in fear had he survived. A pack had no place for such a wolf. I poked my nose in the den and Rissa spoke.
“Come, pups,” she said. “Come drink and rest.”
My heart lifted and I began to climb into the den. And then I stopped and looked again at the smallpup. The memory of being alone and unwanted nagged at me. I couldn’t leave him to starve. I backed out of the den and, without wasting any more words, shoved him from behind, toppling him into the den. He rolled forward with a surprised yelp and I crawled in after him.
Rissa’s den was larger than my mother’s had been, its solid dirt walls held steady by the roots of the great oak that dominated the den site, but was still small enough to feel safe. The four pups fed hungrily at Rissa’s belly. As the smallpup and I crept closer, Unnan rolled one eye toward us and growled. The smallpup standing next to me trembled and backed away.
I was heartsore from the loss of my littermates and my mother, and angry at the way the entire pack had treated me. My body grew hot and tight and I felt the fur on my back rising up and when I saw Unnan and fat Borlla feeding so contentedly, keeping everything for their greedy selves, I shoved Unnan away, making room for myself and the smallpup. I didn’t stop to think about the consequences of making an enemy of Unnan. I was just mad. When the smallpup hesitated, I grabbed the soft fur at the top of his neck and dragged him to a feeding place.
“Eat,” I told him.
Unnan harried me as I tried to feed, and Borlla growled, but I ignored them, reaching for Rissa’s rich, life-giving milk. The smallpup nestled between me and Marra, the kindest of Rissa’s pups. Full and warm, we all fell asleep against Rissa’s strong body.
The next morning Unnan and Borlla tried to get rid of me for good. Rissa, weary of her long confinement, left us with the pack’s two yearling wolves and bounded off beside Ruuqo to join the predawn hunt. Yearling wolves are often pupwatchers when adults are away. Minn, who had helped chase my mother away, was a bully and not particularly interested in watching us, but he was afraid of his sister, Yllin, and she took her responsibility seriously. They played roughly with us, and I loved how they growled and pretended to fight us. When they tired of allowing us to pounce on them and bite their tails, they watched us from a shady spot as we continued to wrestle with one another. When they slipped into their naps, I played with Marra and the smallpup. He was almost as small as I, even though he was two full weeks older, and he did not have the physical strength of a survivor wolf. But I looked more closely at his sparkling eyes and saw that he no longer had the hopeless, weary look that a pup-to-die would have. He was alert and lively, even with too little food in his belly, and in spite of the harassment of Borlla and Unnan. Surprised and pleased by this change in him, I pounced on him and he yipped joyfully as we rolled in the dirt.
Because he was dark-coated as Triell had been, and not much bigger than my lost brother, I felt I had known the smallpup for longer than a day. Amidst our scuffling, I nosed him gently on the cheek. Delighted, he poked his cold nose into my face hard enough to knock me over. I landed with an undignified thump, sending up a cloud of dust. At first he looked startled and apologetic, but then he pounced on top of me, and we wrestled happily. With a yip, Marra joined the game. The three other pups ignored us at first. Borlla was fat, pale-coated, and smelled of the milk she took first of all of us. Her fur was not the bright, pure white of Rissa’s coat, but a duller, dingy shade. Unnan was a dirty gray-brown and had a thin muzzle and tiny eyes that made him look more weasel than wolf. Reel, though larger than Marra and the smallpup, was smaller than Borlla and Unnan, and he struggled to keep up with the big pups as they fought each other in a rougher game. I played and wrestled with Marra and the smallpup until finally, too tired to continue, I sat to rest by a prickly berry bush as Marra chased the smallpup under the oak tree. I closed my eyes, lulled by the rising sun and the happy exhaustion of playing with the other pups.
Moments before my assailants attacked, I heard them and leapt to my feet. Unnan, Reel, and Borlla all pounced on me at once, knocking me flat on my back. I was unprepared for the attack and they quickly pinned me down and began to bite. To Yllin and Minn, watching sleepily from the shade, it might have looked like play. But the pups were not playing. Their teeth bit into me and they tried to crush the air from my chest.
“Ruuqo was too weak to finish killing you, but we’ll finish,” Unnan growled.
“There’s no room for you in our pack,” Borlla whispered as she tried to bite through my neck.
Reel was silent as he tried to rip at my belly.
I growled and bit and snarled and fought against them as best I could, but there were three of them and only one of me, and I knew that even if they did not kill me they could injure me severely enough to make me too weak to survive.
Just as my strength was giving out, something knocked Unnan and Borlla off me. I bit Reel on the shoulder and scrambled to my feet. The smallpup had come to my aid and had so surprised his two littermates that they had fallen awkwardly onto the hard ground. Now Unnan had him pressed to the ground as Borlla prepared to rip at his throat. I leapt over Borlla, landing on Unnan, rolling him off the smallpup and biting into his ugly fur. He tasted like dirt. Borlla abandoned her attack on the smallpup and came to help Unnan. Together they pinned me to the ground.
“Your father was a hyena,” Borlla sneered, standing over me, “and your mother a traitor and a weakling.”
“That’s why she left you,” Unnan added, baring his teeth.
Both pups growled and snarled, expecting me to be afraid of their larger size and greater strength. But I had been angry already when they ganged up on the smallpup. Their insults about my mother only made me angrier now.
How dare they? A voice in my head was so loud I could not hear the sounds of the clearing. The stench of blood in my nose blocked all the scents of oak and spruce and wolf. Kill them. They are not fit to be wolf. For the second time, fury took me like the wind takes a leaf, and I threw off both pups. I would have killed them both, I know I would, but Reel had the smallpup trapped and I had to help him. When I tumbled Reel off him, the smallpup stood beside me, and together we faced the three of them, snarling. I heard Marra running to get help from the pupwatchers. I smelled hatred in Unnan and Borlla, and fear in Reel. I saw the smallpup looking at me out of the corner of his eye, with something like awe on his face. My back left leg bled from a deep gash I had not noticed in the fight, and I felt it weakening beneath me. The smallpup held his right forepaw up as if it hurt him.
I looked over the heads of our adversaries to see Yllin racing back across the clearing followed by an angry Ruuqo. The other pups followed my gaze and Borlla, Unnan, and Reel spun around to face Ruuqo, dropping to their bellies. The pack had returned early from an unsuccessful hunt. As they drew close I heard Yllin speaking softly.
“I’m sorry, leaderwolf,” she said, ears low. “They were playing, and then the big pups attacked. The smallpups fought only to defend themselves.” She paused, and dared to speak again, which I thought was very brave, since Ruuqo might be angry at her for letting the fight get out of hand. “They fought well.”
Ruuqo raised his ears at her but did not discipline her. I could tell he liked Yllin. He let her get away with more than another young wolf might. His eyes swept over us.
“No wolf deeply injures or kills a packmate without cause,” he said. “If you cannot learn that, you cannot be pack. All Swift River wolves know the difference between challenge fights and a fight to kill.” He turned to a cowering Reel. “What is the difference, pup?”
Reel looked around at Borlla and Unnan for assistance and Ruuqo swatted him.
“I did not ask your littermates, I asked you. Well?”
Reel said nothing, just rolled over on his back and whined.
“Yllin,” Ruuqo said, “please explain the difference.”
Yllin’s ears and tail lifted. “Challenge fighting is the fighting a wolf must do to win his or her place in the pack, or the fighting a leaderwolf must do to discipline pack members, to keep order. And you hurt your opponent only as much as you must,” she said. “In a fight to kill, you are trying to hurt or kill your opponent. You only fight to kill when you have no other choice.”
Ruuqo whuffed in approval. “All wolves must know how to fight or they will have no place in the pack,” he continued. “But only leaderwolves may kill or tell others to kill a pack member. And we of the Swift River pack will not kill another wolf unless we are being threatened by a rival pack or if pack lives are at stake.”
Ruuqo struck Borlla when she tried to rise. Unnan and Reel had more sense and stayed low. Then he turned to the smallpup and me. We lowered ourselves to the ground and awaited his blow. He nosed the smallpup gently. He did not even look at me.
“There is more to being wolf,” he said, “than the strength to win a fight, or the speed to catch prey.” He spoke loudly enough for the whole pack to hear, but his words were clearly directed to the pups he had disciplined. “Size and strength and speed are all part of what makes a wolf worthy of pack. But courage and honor are just as important. The interests of the pack come first, and every wolf must serve the pack.” He spoke directly to Borlla, Unnan, and Reel. “Wolves who cannot learn that are not welcome in the Swift River pack.”
I know it wasn’t kind, but I have to admit I took pleasure in the trembling and whining of Borlla and Reel, and especially of Unnan, who had lowered himself so far to the ground I thought he might disappear into the earth. But what Ruuqo did next surprised me. Usually, when a pup is not given a name, he waits as long as three moons to be accepted into the pack and then is almost certain to be low ranking. Ruuqo turned to the smallpup, and spoke softly.
“You have shown courage, honor, and strength of spirit, all qualities of a true wolf. And I welcome you into the Swift River pack.” He took the smallpup’s muzzle in his jaws.
Rissa eagerly stepped forward, tail high, her white fur shining in the sun, and spoke before Ruuqo could continue.
“We name you Ázzuen, a warrior’s name, the name of my father,” she said. “Carry your name well and do honor to the Swift River pack.”
And just like that, the smallpup became pack. It had happened so quickly I couldn’t untangle my happiness for him from my jealousy—my mother had given me a name, but no one would call me by it. I had fought more fiercely than Ázzuen, but Ruuqo had snubbed me, would not acknowledge my courage. For just a moment, I’m ashamed to say, I wanted to take Ázzuen by his neck fur and shake him. But as he walked back to the den, his little tail whipped proudly back and forth so temptingly I couldn’t resist it. I felt the meanness in me dry up and I snuck up behind him, leapt, and playfully nipped his tail. He turned in surprise, and I grinned at him and ran into Rissa’s den. With a bark louder than should have come from so small a pup, he leapt after me, into the milk-smelling earth. I could never bring Triell back, but in Ázzuen I had once again found a brother.
Ruuqo would not defy the Greatwolves and kill me outright, but he would not accept my name and did not make it easy for me to survive. The first time we pups fed outside the den, he stood glowering in front of Rissa, stepping aside to let the other pups pass by to reach their food, but growling and snarling when I tried to do so. It took all of my courage to wriggle past him to get my meal. Every time he saw me, he growled. Though they dared not try to kill me again, Unnan and Borlla followed Ruuqo’s lead, attacking me whenever they got the chance.
Three nights after the Greatwolves intervened to save my life, Ruuqo howled to assemble the pack, to tell them to prepare to journey the next morning.
“Ruuqo!” Rissa raised her head angrily from where she rested by the den. “None of the pups are old enough for the journey.”
“What journey?” Reel asked Borlla.
“The journey to our summer home,” answered Yllin, the young female who had spoken up for us after the fight. She stood beside us by the large oak that shaded the den site.
“It’s our best gathering place, where you can be safe while we hunt and bring back food for you. The den site is too small and too warm to stay in all summer.”
“Is it far?” I asked.
“For a pup, it’s far. Most packs have summer gathering places near their den sites, but our old den site was flooded last winter so we must travel farther.” She frowned. “Last year Ruuqo waited until we were eight weeks old to move us. I can’t imagine what he’s thinking.”
Rissa narrowed her eyes, watching Ruuqo as he paced the clearing.
“You want to get back at the Greatwolves,” she accused. “You want the pup to die.” None of us had to ask which pup she meant. She rose and walked to him, placing her nose to his cheek. “The decision has been made for you, Lifemate. You cannot defy Jandru and Frandra.”
“No,” he said, “I cannot. But I cannot anger the Ancients, either. You know the wolves of the Wide Valley must keep their blood pure, or risk the consequences. If we allow her to live, the Ancients could send drought, or a freeze that kills all the prey, or a plague. It’s happened before. The legends tell us so.” He shook his head in frustration. “And where will Frandra and Jandru be if the other Greatwolves see her and do not like what she is? Or other packs in the valley? Greatwolves do not live with the same consequences we do, and yet they can force us to take action that could be our ruin. I won’t let my pack suffer.”
Werrna, the scarred female who was Ruuqo and Rissa’s secondwolf, spoke up. “The Stone Peak wolves killed the Wet Woods pack—while a pair of Greatwolves watched—because they allowed a mixed-blood litter to live. And it’s not as if we can hide it,” she said, looking at me. “She bears the mark of the unlucky. She could bring death to our pack.”
Rissa ignored Werrna. “Then we will carry the smaller pups, if they cannot make it across the plain.”
“No pup is carried. Any pup that cannot make the journey is not fit to be a Swift River wolf,” Ruuqo replied. “If the Wolf of the Moon means her to live, so be it. But I will allow only strong wolves in my pack.”
“I will not let you endanger my pups for your pride!” Rissa snapped.
“It is not my pride, Rissa, it is our survival. And we journey when the sun rises.” Ruuqo almost never used his leader voice with Rissa, almost never bullied her. But when he did he made it clear that he considered himself top wolf. Rissa was several pounds lighter than he, and weak from giving milk to us pups. If she challenged him, she would lose.
His voice softened. “We have known since we were young that we must honor the covenant, Rissa. And we have both made sacrifices to it before.” I had not heard sadness in his voice before, and wondered what caused it.
Rissa stared at him for a long time and then stalked away. His ears and tail drooping, Ruuqo watched her go.
Early the next morning, the pack set out. Rissa refused to take part in the leave-taking ceremony and stood aloof as the rest of the pack gathered around Ruuqo, each touching him and crying out for a good journey. I watched, fascinated, as the adult wolves wove around Ruuqo, touching their noses to his face and neck. He in turn placed his head on shoulders and necks, and licked outstretched faces.
“Won’t you join us, Rissa?” he asked. “A good ceremony means a good journey.”
“Good planning means a good journey,” she snapped. “I will not celebrate this leave-taking.”
Ruuqo said no more to her, but lifted his voice in a great howl. One by one the other wolves joined him, singing to the sky. And the journey began.
We walked away from the den site and the old oak, and scrambled up the rise that protected the den. Our clearing was at the very edge of a small stand of trees that sheltered us, and beyond the trees stretched a vast plain. It sloped gently uphill, and I could not see the end of it.
I remember little of the first part of that journey. At four weeks old, I was only two weeks younger than Rissa’s pups, but it made a difference. My legs were that much shorter, my lungs that much weaker, my eyes just a little less able to focus. The wound in my leg had not yet healed and it hurt to put all my weight on it. I could see that Ázzuen’s front paw was still hurting him, too. We were all terrified of being left behind, and did not even try to sort out the new sounds and smells. But Ázzuen, Marra, and I were the smallest and it was harder for us than for the other pups. Soon we fell behind the others. After we walked for what seemed like hours, we saw the wolves ahead of us stop in the shade of a large boulder. We hurried to catch up, and collapsed in a heap of fatigue. Even Borlla and Unnan were panting with effort and were too tired to harass me. We were allowed to rest for only a few moments before the adult wolves pushed and prodded us to our feet and we began the journey again. I had less time to rest than the others since I had reached the boulder last of all, and my legs shook as I stood. As we reached the crest of the long slope, we could see across the great plain to a distant stand of trees.
Rissa gave a great howl. “Your new home lies on the other side, pups. Once you make it to the woods and to Fallen Tree Gathering Place, you will be safe. You will have passed your first test as wolf.”
The rest of the pack joined her in the howl. “Keep to the journey. Call on your strength.”
We walked forever across that great plain, cringing against the openness of the sky. We were so used to trees above us, and the sights and sounds of this great flat land overwhelmed us. After what seemed like a lifetime of walking, I looked up at the sun overhead to see the day half over, and I could not believe we would reach the other side before dark. Ruuqo and Rissa led the way, with the rest of the pack following, the adult wolves surrounding the pups. Rissa, the yearling wolves, and the oldwolf, Trevegg, kept coming back to check on stragglers, and one of them always walked beside us. Marra, two weeks older than I and better fed than Ázzuen, managed to keep up, but soon the gap between the core pack and the stragglers grew, leaving Ázzuen and me behind.
Ruuqo barked for the adults with us to catch up. Trevegg turned back to me and lifted me gently in his jaws. From far ahead, Ruuqo gave another sharp bark.
“Every pup must walk the journey. They will arrive on their own feet, or they are not fit to be wolf.”
Trevegg hesitated, but put me gently down.
“Keep walking, littlewolf. If you do not give up, you will find us. Keep the strength. You are part of the Balance.”
When Trevegg set me down, I could not lift myself up again, but sat in despair as the rest of the pack moved away. Ázzuen sat beside me, whimpering.
Then Yllin, the strong-minded yearling female, broke away from the pack again and ran back to me. Her strong legs closed the distance between me and the rest of the pack in a matter of moments and I despaired of my tired legs ever being strong enough to carry me far enough and quickly enough. Yllin had a sharp tongue and little patience for weakness and I was certain she had come to mock me. But when she stopped, ignoring Ruuqo’s angry warning, there was mischief in her amber eyes.
“Come, little sister,” she said. “I plan to be leaderwolf of Swift River someday, and will need a secondwolf. Do not disappoint me.” She bent to speak so softly only I could hear.
“It’s the way of the wolf. This is the first of three tests you must pass. If you pass all three—the crossing, the first hunt, and the first winter—Ruuqo has to give you romma, the mark of pack acceptance, and every wolf you meet will know you are a Swift River wolf and that you are worthy of pack.” She paused. “Sometimes a leaderwolf will help a weaker pup through the tests. All of us love pups and want them to live. We’d sooner give up hunting and live on grass than hurt a pup. But if leaderwolves want to test a pup’s strength they may challenge her. If a pup is strong enough to survive such trials, she is strong enough to be pack. If not, there’s more food for the others.”
Then, before Ruuqo could come back for her and punish her for her defiance, Yllin pelted back to join the rest of the pack, tail low, and I could see her asking Ruuqo’s pardon.
The pack moved farther and farther away, until I could barely see their dark shapes on the open plain. But Trevegg’s kindness and Yllin’s cheerful defiance heartened me, and I got to my feet and began to take one painful step after another. Ázzuen followed. But after an hour, my breath came in gasps and I no longer looked up so often to see where the rest of the pack was. The gash in my leg began bleeding again and burned with every step. Ázzuen began to fall behind me and I slowed my pace even more, allowing him to catch up.
We walked. We walked until my paws felt bruised and each breath took so much effort I wished again and again I did not need the air. I could no longer see my pack and their scent grew fainter and fainter until I could no longer trust the trail I followed.
The sky darkened.
Grown wolves travel at night, avoiding the heat of day, but a pup is prey and any pack that values its pups does not take them out in the open after dark until they are old enough to fend for themselves.
“Bear food,” Unnan had whispered to me before we left that morning. I was listening to Ruuqo and Rissa argue about the journey and had not heard him come up behind me.
“You’ll be bear food before tomorrow morning. Or a mother long-fang will get you for a snack for her cubs.”
I had stalked away from him with as much dignity as I could scrape up, but now as Ázzuen and I stood alone out in the open, Unnan’s words haunted me.
And yet we kept walking. I was angry and hurt that the pack did not care if I lived or died, but I had nowhere else to go and they were the only family I had. So I walked on until my legs gave out beneath me and my tired nose could no longer distinguish the scent of my pack from the other scents on the plain. As a cloudy dusk crept over the sky, I sank down on the ground and waited for death to come. Ázzuen crumpled beside me.
Sleep came, and dreams. Dreams of bears and sharp teeth. But as I fell deeper into sleep, I saw a face, the kindly face of a young shewolf. She was no wolf I knew, for only my pack was familiar to me. She smelled of juniper and an unfamiliar warm-acrid scent. And, like me, she had a white moon shape on her chest, like no other wolf in the pack had. I wondered if she might be a vision of my mother from a younger, happier time.
The dreamwolf laughed. “No, little Smallteeth, though I am one of your many mothers from a time longer ago than you can imagine.” I felt a warmth suffusing me, easing the aches in my body. “You are not meant to die today, sisterwolf. You promised your mother you would survive and become pack. You must live and carry on my work. You have much to do.” And her kind face grew suddenly sad, and then angry. “You will suffer for it,” she said. Her sadness and anger left as quickly as they had come. “But you will also find great joy. Stand now, my sister. Walk, my daughter. Your way will always be a difficult one and you must learn now to persevere when you think you cannot. Walk, Kaala Smallteeth. Take your friend and find your home.”
Dazed, I struggled to my feet, ignoring the pain in my sore leg. I poked Ázzuen awake and, ignoring his groans, bullied him to his feet. When he fell to the ground again, I bit him.
“Get up,” I hissed, my throat too dry and tired to speak loudly. “I’m going now and you’re coming. I won’t let you die here.”
“They gave me a name and they still don’t care if I live or die,” he whispered miserably. “They just left me here.”
Impatience with Ázzuen’s self-pity rose in me and I bit him again, much harder this time.
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” I said, ignoring his yelp of pain. “You saved my life when the other pups tried to kill me, so you have to come with me now. Show them you belong in the pack. Do you want Unnan and Borlla to be right about you? To be able to say you’re too weak to be pack?”
Ázzuen stood shakily and thought for a moment. “I don’t care about Borlla and Unnan. You cared if I got milk or not. I’ll go where you go, Kaala.” He looked at me with simple trust as if I were a grown wolf, and his belief in me gave me strength. Ázzuen trusted me to get him home, and so I would.
The pain in my feet and in my chest seemed distant from me, and the dreamwolf’s scent guided me as the pack-scent had before. I did not even know if it would lead me where my pack had gone, but I could no longer distinguish the scents of my family, so I followed it. I looked up and saw the great light of the moon, completely round and so bright that my way was not dark. It did not give warmth as did the sun, but its light heartened me, and I walked with determination. I could see, out of the corner of my eye, the shape of the young dreamwolf guiding me on. If I tried to look directly at her, she disappeared, and I got the sense that she was laughing at me. When my legs tired, I would remember Ázzuen plodding trustfully beside me and keep on going.
And, then, when I thought I could walk no more, the night became darker and the ground beneath my paws cooler. Trees rose above my head, dimming the light of the moon. I had crossed the great plain. The dreamwolf faded with the moonlight and everything in my body hurt. Being alone in the forest didn’t seem much better than being alone on the plain, and my weary nose could not pick up the scent of my pack. At last I caught a familiar scent.
“I waited for you.” Yllin stood tall at the edge of the wood. “I knew you’d find your way here, little sister. And welcome to you, smallpup.” She grinned at Ázzuen. I was too tired to do anything but gratefully touch my nose to her lowered muzzle. We found the pack-scent and walked the last hour to the gathering place and fell into a heap of exhaustion.
Ruuqo didn’t even greet us. He just looked over at Rissa, who gazed at him with a challenge in her eyes.
“She can stay,” he said, “until her winter coat comes in. But I make no promises that I will make her pack.”
I didn’t know what he meant, but Yllin had spoken of something similar. I didn’t have the energy left to figure it out. And after a moment I didn’t care, for Rissa, and then the rest of the pack, came to me and licked me in greeting, and called me by my name.